Save the Date
by cjgwilliams
Summary: Part of The Agent and the Advocate Series. Based on an OTP. Tris and Tobias have been married for three years and are about to buy their first house. However, a requirement to submit their marriage license reveals a surprise! One-shot.


**Author's Note: This is based roughly on an OTP. Major and eternal thanks to Milner for beta services! If you haven't read her stuff, drop everything and do it now!**

"Ugh!" Tris dropped the phone back in the cradle, annoyed.

"What's up?" Christina's head appeared over her cubicle wall, her expression concerned.

Tris looked up, her forehead furrowed with exasperation. "Oh, that was the mortgage company. It looks like we'll have to move our closing. Apparently another Beatrice Eaton defaulted on a mortgage in Cook County seven years ago and I have to prove it wasn't me."

"But you weren't Tris Eaton seven years ago."

"Yeah, that wasn't good enough. I've got to submit documentation."

Christina snorted. "How are you going to do that?"

"Since it was before we got married, I'll just have to get a copy of my marriage license to prove that my name wasn't Eaton then."

Christina made a sympathetic noise. "That means going down to Vital Records. What an annoyance."

"I know! I already got time off from Tori for the move and I don't want to have to change it. We're understaffed as it is!"

"When's your next court appearance?"

"Not for another week." Tris sat back, a brooding expression on her face. She really didn't want to push off the closing, and subsequently the move, for another week. She sat up. "Let me call Tobias. Maybe he has some time before I have to go down to testify."

Christina disappeared back over the cubicle wall as Tris reached for the phone and dialed swiftly.

"Tobias Eaton." The deep, gravelly voice answered.

Tris smiled. Even after five years, the sound of his voice was music to her ears. Tobias was the only man who'd ever had the power to consistently make her smile. "Hey," she said, her voice softer than it had been a few minutes ago.

"Hi babe," he responded, pleasure evident in his voice. "What's up?"

"Bad news. I guess another Beatrice Eaton defaulted on a mortgage about seven years ago so I have to prove I'm not her."

"We've only been married for three years."

"Yeah, I know. I'll have to get a copy of our marriage license to prove I was still Prior then. Are you able to take off and go down to Vital Records this week to get it?"

Tris heard tapping through the phone as Tobias checked his schedule. "No can do. I've got a meeting with the US Attorney and the rest of the team on a sex trafficking case, and then we've got pre-meetings for the inspection team from FBI headquarters."

Tris groaned. "Great. I don't have an appearance in juvenile court for another week. That's the only time I'll be close enough to run by and grab a copy."

"Can't we just get a copy online?" Tobias asked.

"Nope. The mortgage company said they needed a copy with the raised seal so they know it is an authentic record."

Tobias grumbled. As an agent working on a cyber squad for the FBI, Tobias was a firm believer that anything should be available online. "I hope this doesn't delay closing too long. That asshole ex of yours said that a month to month lease would be a month and a half of rent."

In a hideously awkward coincidence, Tris' ex-boyfriend, Peter, had been hired by their property management company's office. Tris had tried to remain friendly, after all, she was the bad guy: she had left Peter for Tobias. But Peter had been bound and determined to put himself in Tris' path as often as possible. He'd made it clear he wanted her, despite the fact that she was married. After he'd 'casually' mentioned to Tobias how much he'd missed Tris, Tobias had gone out and bought every Chicago real estate sales magazine he could find. He figured that beating the ever loving shit out of Peter might not be so good for his career.

Tris sighed. "That'll take a bite out of our savings." She had her eye on a really nice couch for the living room that she'd rather use it on.

"Let me see if there's anything I can do. I'll call you back."

"I'll do the same. Love you."

"Love you, too. See you tonight."

A week later, Tris glanced at her watch as she hurried through the halls. The Office of Vital Records closed in exactly ten minutes, so Tris plastered her nicest smile on her face as she walked up. The clerk would be pretty annoyed by the last minute request, but Tris couldn't get out of court any sooner; Judges usually could care less what anyone else had to do. She stepped to the counter and asked for a copy of her marriage license.

As predicted, the clerk shot her an unfriendly look. "That'll be fifteen dollars. Cash only."

Tris reached into her purse and pulled out a twenty. She'd been appearing as a child advocate in juvenile court for so long, she was more than aware of the quirks of the court system.

"Names?" The clerk used a pencil to scratch her head through her gray hair that was inexplicably shaped like a football helmet.

"Beatrice Prior and Tobias Eaton."

The clerk huffed and tapped the computer. Moments later, the printer whirred to life. The clerk, never getting up from her chair, grabbed the license and affixed the seal to the bottom. She reached into the cash drawer, pulled out a five dollar bill and slid both across the counter to Tris, who smiled brightly. "Thanks!" The clerk merely huffed again and logged off the computer, finally hauling herself up and lumbering to the back of the office.

Tris stuffed the paper into a manila folder and slipped it into her bag without looking at it. She wouldn't be able to send it to the mortgage company until the next day, but she felt better with it in hand.

Luckily, Tris managed to avoid Peter when she checked the mailbox. Peter had taken to 'visiting' the security desk after the office closed, since Tris usually came home roughly the same time every day. Peter wasn't there, most likely because George was on duty. George was a former Army infantryman who'd been injured in the Gulf War and now worked part time at the desk to subsidize his disability payments. George hated Peter and never missed an opportunity to make fun of the younger man.

Tris grabbed the mail, waved to George and headed up the elevator to their fifth floor apartment. She knew Tobias would love not having to choose between either walking five flights of stairs or gritting his teeth through the elevator ride. Elevators were no good for people with claustrophobia.

As usual, Tris had beaten Tobias home. The L might not be the most reliable form of transportation, but it usually beat the crappy Chicago traffic. Tris dropped her bag on the table next to the door, hung up her keys and headed back to the bedroom to change clothes.

The apartment was a cozy two bedroom. It had been perfect for them as a newlywed couple but they were ready to think about a family. Besides, Tris wanted a dog, which was not allowed in their building. As excited as she was about them buying their first house, she was nostalgic about leaving; this was their first place together. A mere six months after meeting, they'd moved into this place together, and it had been their home for nearly five years.

She'd just begun chopping vegetables for the salad when she heard the front door open. "Hey babe!" he called. Moments later, Tobias strode into the kitchen to give her a kiss. He'd already taken off his jacket, so Tris caressed the softness of his shirt as she slid her arms around his waist. She paid no attention to the gun on his hip; it was a part of him and she'd stopped noticing it long ago. She burrowed into her husband's chest, loving the strong arms that surrounded her. After a moment, she looked up into the dark blue eyes that had originally drawn her to him. His full lips curved into a smile moments before he lowered his head to brush them across hers. Tris pressed herself closer to him, nibbling on his fuller lower lip; he smiled against her mouth.

He raised his head and ran his hand across her honey blonde ponytail. "How was your day?"

"Good. You?"

"Better now. Inspection is a bitch."

They broke apart and Tobias grabbed a piece of carrot. He sniffed the red sauce bubbling away on the stove. "Tori's Bolognese?" Tris nodded, chopping tomatoes. "Oh, hey, did you make it to Vital Records?"

"Yeah. I'm going to send it overnight mail so hopefully closing won't be delayed too much."

"Where is it?"

"In my bag by the door."

Tobias walked out to the living room. "I was thinking," he called, "The Special Agent in Charge has a really nice copy of his marriage certificate in a frame in his office. Maybe we should do that." There was silence for a moment. "Hey, Tris? When's our anniversary?"

She laughed. "You know when!" She walked out of the kitchen, the salad bowl in her hand. She put it down on the table and shot an amused look at her husband. "Besides, you have the license in your hand."

Tobias stood with the paper in his hand, a shell-shocked expression on his face. "Humor me."

Tris shook her head at him and put one hand on her cocked hip. "July twenty-third."

Tobias looked down at the paper and sighed. "Yeah no. It's July twenty-second."

Tris stared at him for a moment. "What? No it isn't."

Tobias gestured with the paper, looking a bit more like himself. "According to this, we were married on July twenty-second."

Tris hurried across the room to look at the paper. "No way." He handed it to her and she stared at it stupidly. "What the hell? This says July twenty-second."

Tobias laughed. "I know."

She looked at him, stupefied. "But... but we've always celebrated on the twenty-third," she insisted, staring at the paper as if willing it to spontaneously change the date.

He shrugged. "I guess we were wrong."

"But how? How could we be _so_ wrong about something like this?" Tris couldn't seem to close her mouth. She was mortified.

Tobias plopped down on the couch. "I don't…" He stopped and looked at her. "Aw shit, Tris! The justice of the peace!"

"You think he wrote down the wrong date?"

"No, remember? He wasn't available on Saturday."

"Oh, God. We moved the wedding to Friday." Tris sank down on the arm of the couch. They'd been married in a small wedding in Zeke and Shauna's backyard attended only by their closest friends and Tris' twin brother. Since Tris' parents were dead and Tobias was estranged from his divorced parents, they didn't feel the need to have a big ceremony. Zeke and Shauna had a really nice backyard at their house in Evanston, and they happily decorated it to celebrate the small wedding.

"Tobias, we've been celebrating our anniversary on the wrong day for the past three years!" Tris felt like she was going to cry.

To her surprise, Tobias began laughing. "Jesus, only us!"

Tris dropped the license on the coffee table and stood in front of him, her hands on her hips. "Tobias, this isn't funny! What are we going to do?"

He reach up, grabbed her arm, and pulled her into his lap to brush his lips across hers. She wiggled for a minute before giving in and letting him kiss her deeply. His tongue caressed hers as her hands twined themselves in his silky, dark hair. He ran his hand teasingly up her thigh, squeezing her hip. They kissed for several long moments; deep, drugging kisses that caused Tris to forget what she was upset about in the first place.

She raised her head slightly, gasping for breath. Tobias reached up to cup her head and pulled her down until their foreheads touched. Tris ran her fingers across his neatly trimmed beard and ran her thumb over his bottom lip. He bit it lightly.

"I don't give a shit what day we got married as long as we did," he murmured. "I love you, Tris. Twenty-second or twenty-third, Friday or Saturday, it was the best day of my life."

Tris went soft inside. "Mine too," she whispered, leaning forward to kiss him again. "I guess it isn't the end of the word." She sighed.

He smiled, pleased that the horror had left her bluish gray eyes. "Nope, not at all."

She kissed him swiftly and got off his lap. As she headed to the kitchen she called out, "Besides, now you can get me two presents."

Tobias shot up. "Wait, what?"


End file.
